


A Proper Queen's Needs

by DrgnmastrAlex



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Ending, Brainwashing, F/F, F/M, Fanfiction, Femdom, Fetish, Futanari, Harems, Mind Control, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26228029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrgnmastrAlex/pseuds/DrgnmastrAlex
Summary: Another commission down, and this time it's time for some more Fate kink fics!  This one features some fun male to female TFs alongside instant loss and harem dancers/slaves.  There's also some futa that serves as a hypnotic focus during the middle third of the fic.  Thus, the disclaimer after the title, so if futa isn't your thing you've been given a proper head's up.Hope you all enjoy!
Relationships: Morgan le Fay/Artoria Pendragon | Saber
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	A Proper Queen's Needs

“A Proper Queen's Needs”, a Fate/Grand Order mind control/transformation fic by DrgnmastrAlex

(Disclaimer: some futa depicted in the fic)

The Knights of the Round Table. An elite order of knights tasked with defending the kingdom of Camelot, and the lands of Britain. Despite their eccentricities and clashing personalities, all held fealty and loyalty to the king they served: King Artorius, the one true King of the Britons.

Despite this, there were concerns and issues that arose as their king's reign progressed throughout the years, most important among them was Artorius's issues with siring an heir.

The king was a woman, formerly bearing the name Artoria, who had assumed a role as a man to better take on the duties as king. Due to this fact, she was unable to bear a child with Guinevere. Merlin, that rogue wizard who seemed to be just as helpful in assisting Camelot as beleaguering them, had aided the king in helping to conceive. But due to the intervention of Morgan Le Fay, the sorcerous sister of the king, the effort bore no fruit.

This all was real, and yet a simulation. An illusion that weighed upon the potential outcome of the events that would lead to the downfall of Camelot, and the passing of these great figures into legend. A play of sorts, whose intended end would bring all those involved to join the Throne of Heroes, and in doing so enable them to be summoned far into the future to serve magi as powerful familiars in combat and negotiation.

Morgan Le Fay, in a bid to fulfill her heart's desire without the need of a Holy Grail or any war associated with its acquisition, had found a means through tampering with the Throne of Heroes. As a powerful Caster, she was physically weaker compared to other Heroic Spirits that resided in the Throne of Heroes, yet her magic and power was legendary. In line with her cunning and magical prowess, she had created this 'play' of the events that led to the fall of Camelot, with the intent of bringing about a radical change that would result in a branching timeline.

A timeline where Camelot did not fall.

A timeline where the King of Knights and the Knights of the Round Table did not die or scatter.

A timeline where she was victorious.

Her goal was within sight. Artoria would be the most difficult to deal with, but it would not be an impossible effort. Not with Morgan's current understanding of the magic Merlin used to grant Artoria the means to bear an heir, and how she twisted it to serve a different outcome.

Night settled upon Camelot, and as the starry sky led its citizens to slumber, so too did the knights of Artoria's court. It would be a gradual affair, with a few taking the rounds alongside the night watch, but a window of opportunity came which allowed Morgan to slip into Camelot. Eventually, she found herself near the chambers of the king and queen, and it was there that she spied upon Lancelot exiting in a state of great anxiety.

“Oho? Knight of the Lake, what brings you here...?” Morgan watched as Lancelot walked away with a hurried step past four guards. When he was out of sight, a gesture of the witch's hand bypassed the enchanted armor of the guards to put them in a state of torpor. She passed by them and softly knocked at the door.

“...Sir Lancelot, have you returned?” a fair voice called out. “Perchance have you more to discuss? I do not feel up to the task of speaking any further with you tonight.”

Morgan had assumed that perhaps this was the point where Lancelot and Guinevere's dalliances behind Artoria had picked up. The queen's queries confirmed her suspicions, which meant that Morgan's timing couldn't have been any better. She remained silent, and a moment later, the fair voice spoke up again with a weary sigh.

“...very well. Please enter. It is unkind for me to turn you away if you require an audience.”

The magical doors opened to grant entry. Guinevere let go of an anxious breath as her long, fair brown hair moved in time with her gaze focusing on the entry. Her brown eyes widened in surprise when it was not Lancelot that entered: it was a buxom, lovely woman whose face was hidden in a veil, dressed in a revealing deep blue and black sleeved dress, and a black diadem-like crown with blue crystals that curved like daggers and fangs. Her hair was reminiscent of Artoria's, which was why, for a brief moment, Guinevere slipped.

“My kin-... no... you're not the king... who are you?”

Morgan peeled away the dark veil obscuring her face, drawing a gasp from the queen. Matching her feminine form was an alluring visage, yet it was impossible to deny that she was related to Artoria. Guinevere knew of Morgan, yet had never encountered her before this moment.

“Do not bother calling for aid, dear queen. The guards are senseless, and I have placed a bounded field upon all openings into these chambers to dull all sound. But curious that you would address me in such a way when mistaking me for my half-sibling.”

She wasted no time in attending to Guinevere and testing the corruption of the spell that Merlin had made. Her body glimmered as the spell took effect, and with a light shudder she pulled away part of her dress to reveal an erect and girthy penis. It twitched, giving off an aura of corrupt magic as it grew to nearly a foot in length.

“Haaah... oh dear...~” Morgan grinned, casting a predatory look at Guinevere to see if the actual effect of the spell would affect her. The fair queen looked horrified at first as Morgan's manhood seemed to throb and glow a bit with fel power. Each pulse and throb that the witch had made her length glow in time, drawing Guinevere's eye as revulsion turned to confusion.

This held Guinevere's gaze as Morgan approached her, holding her artificially grown manhood and lightly stroking it to tease her own arousal. As she did so, a pronounced reaction revealed itself from the queen: a growing blush that started from her features and suffused her skin, which paired itself with Guinevere's expression turning to a dazed, passive need. The queen's lips parted subtly as her eyes fluttered.

“It's...what...is this...?” Guinevere felt her body heat up as she gazed upon it, compelled as her eyes trailed along its length and the aura of power it gave off. Her faculties slowed as her body grew listless and tense...

“Mmmh... I see.” Morgan mused. “I was most fortunate to make my move tonight. If I had delayed any longer, I would have jeopardized the full potential of this spell's effect upon you. This is very promising~”

She smiled as she reached Guinevere, whose gaze was locked upon the rigid member with a growing hunger in her dull eyes.

“You want this.”

A soft sigh of desire slipped past the fair queen's lips. Passion had overrode thought and reason. Right now, she was simply a virgin woman who had awakened to a primal need.

“Before I give you what you want, you must do as I command. Only then will I grant you your desires. Renounce your position as queen of Camelot, and Artoria's bride.”

Guinevere's throat tightened as the words were momentarily choked off. A last, small burst of will and hesitation was consumed by her body's needs. Her hands robotically moved to her crown, and she tossed it aside without care.

“I...Guinevere...queen of Camelot...and bride to the king of Camelot...do hereby renounce both roles.”

There was a visceral sensation that rippled through reality, one that could only be felt by Morgan. ...and perhaps Merlin, but he would not be able to stop her now. Without the magical protection of her role as queen, Guinevere felt the full crushing weight of Morgan's spell heat her body and beguile her mind.

“Then I shall give you your deepest carnal desires, my dear. Indulge yourself in the utter bliss of a woman, and in so doing shall you become my concubine~”

Hunger and need painted Guinevere's face as she fell to debauchery, eager to serve the glorious authority that Morgan would soon wield over her...

Some hours passed, and Artoria would approach hers and Guinevere's private chambers. Her thoughts grew introspective, which drew her attention away from the guards' stupefied state as she entered her chambers. Guinevere was a fair and kind woman, a proper princess and someone who all could look up to as queen. Artoria could not have picked a better partner to rule beside her, but as a bride, she was quite possibly the worst fit for her. It had resulted in a strained relationship between the two of them, and despite Merlin's best efforts to find a means of consummation and bridging that gap, the failure that followed only made things worse. Artoria was certain that Guinevere was now having grave doubts about their marriage, but matrimony and serving as queen allowed her no feasible means of breaking free from what would surely become a loveless union.

Thus it was to the King of Knights' surprise that she found Guinevere dressed in nothing but a sheer gown, sporting subtle signs of arousal as she looked upon her king with an expression of wanton need.

“My king... come with me. We shall retire. I shall ease your troubles as only a woman can for her lover.”

Artoria's expression turned to one of genuine surprise as she quickly closed the distance.

“...Guinevere, you are not yourself. I know not of what passions have struck you this night. Be they from desperation or revelation, please, come to your senses and speak to me.”

She had reached Guinevere, pulling her towards a seat only for the woman to quickly and passionately kiss her. A strange, salty and bitter taste slipped into her mouth as Guinevere's tongue danced in hers, and almost immediately Artoria felt an alien sensation take hold of her. She quickly broke the embrace and spat as a soft throbbing in her veins gave way to a building, primal heat.

“What is this...treachery?!” She quickly pulled away her cape and loosened some of her armor to cool her body, yet this was stopped as she heard a hearty chuckle emanate from hers and Guinevere's bedchambers. The laugh was all too familiar to her.

“My dearest half-sibling!” Morgan cheered. “I have come to pay a visit, and lo, your bride suffers from a lack of satisfaction! So I took it upon myself to grant her such~”

“You did what?”

“Ahahahahahah~! The queen Guinevere, bride of King Artorius, has renounced her crown and status as bride to be my pet~! She is now merely a woman who seeks to please and serve, to be rewarded with pleasure and an exquisite existence as an obedient thrall. And she has served me well, as a woman and as my pet~”

A look of fury crept onto Artoria's face. “Witch! You seek to cuckold as a means of taking Camelot?! Such low means, even for you, sister. Guards, to my side!”

Morgan simply laughed as the stupefied guards outside did not respond. Guinevere moved to the witch's side, kneeling at her feet and pawing at her dress with needy coos.

“Mmh, do not bother, sibling. The guards outside are in a torpor that not even your great presence and aura can break, and no sound will come from these chambers. You are alone, abandoned by your queen, and your throne is in jeopardy as a result.”

“Then you should be prepared to pay for jeopardizing my throne with your life.” Artoria drew Excalibur in preparation to strike Morgan down, but the sorceress simply smiled.

“Guinevere, my slave, be a dear and show your former partner my blade~”

A gasp of delight slipped from Guinevere, and she quickly parted Morgan's dress to reveal a throbbing manhood that glowed with a powerful and dark aura. Having claimed Guinevere, it was even more potent as it drew Artoria's gaze. The king paused, feeling her body heat and veins throb harder. The sight stirred a response within her that hadn't happened since Merlin enchanted her form so as to consummate with Guinevere: lust, desire, an urge to indulge in her baser urges. Her throat grew dry, and joined her lips in gaining a pleasurable sensitivity as her grip on Excalibur faltered.

“No...why do I...what did you do to me?” she shuddered.

“Guinevere received my seed upon her lips and tongue to seal her service to me. Curiously, she must have had some left within her mouth, as her kiss has weakened you more than I anticipated. How fortuitous~”

Artoria gave a desperate groan as her body rapidly began to turn against her. Her own loins were heating up while her gaze returned to that powerful 'blade' that was making her knees weak. Was this the pleasure that a woman could experience? Was this what enabled Morgan to enthrall Guinevere so?

She grit her teeth. She was not a woman. Artoria had discarded the trappings of her old self in pursuit of kingship. The moment she pulled Caliburn from the stone, she could not be regarded as a simple man or woman. She could not be human. She was more. Such were the sacrifices one made to rule Britain and bring peace. Those thoughts gave her focus to push back against the enchanted arousal that afflicted her, and she steadied her grip and stance before taking sure steps forward.

“Impressive, my dearest sibling. Truly, your will is iron. But iron can buckle and melt under the right amount of heat~” Morgan taunted. Her hand stroked lightly along her shaft, making its length pulse and glow brighter to draw the eye further. Guinevere cooed in delight as she dropped into trance, gazing dumbly at the rod as the corrupted symbol of authority that Morgan sported twitched and shuddered.

It was just a moment that Artoria's eyes were drawn, but it was all that was needed. Her body seized up with passionate, lustful fire as her eyes glowed in time with that of Morgan's manhood. Her grip loosened on Excalibur as she felt her chest grow hot. Then her loins twitched and throbbed. That powerful symbol of authority called to her, making her throat tight and sex melt. Her body began to shudder more violently as her eyes fluttered a bit.

“Yes... there it is. Haaah~ Oh, you can't pull yourself away now, can you?” Morgan moaned. “This spell, the one that Merlin originally created as a symbol of continuing your line and authority as king, is something that I warped and perverted to suit my needs. A symbol of longevity, prosperity, and authority. And now I wield it as my own, darker, stronger.”

Another looooooong stroke fills Artoria's vision, pulling a shuddering gasp from the king.

“It calls to the lusts and primal needs within you, sibling. Your greedy nature as one who bears the blood of a dragon, the lusts that cannot be sated. You see this power, and you must have it, you must own it, you must consume it to make it one with you. I will grant you the opportunity to feel it within you, but if you are unable to resist the allure of submitting to it, you will be clad in silken chains that entwine about your soul for all eternity. You will lose your right as king, and in doing so, give all your authority to me. Are you still willing to risk everything you have for even more power~?”

Everything Morgan said was true. That power called to her, and she wanted it to both fill her and be her possession. The allure to kiss it and worship it was almost as strong as the need to have it throbbing and pulsing on her so that others would come under her thrall. Excalibur's glow had faded as her will struggled and the desire to strike Morgan down faded. Artoria's armor followed suit, and soon her own clothes were cast aside to leave her nude.

“Sister... give that power to me. I will take it in...I want it. I want to control it, to feel it pull all to me so that I may rule unquestioned.”

“Then let's test your resolve~ Pet, you may watch. Enjoy the show, but you are not allowed to reach climax until there is a victor.”

Guinevere mewled in need, but obeyed as she followed the two half-siblings into the bedchambers, where Artoria and Morgan quickly engaged in furious, spiteful, and passionate love-making. Both would vie to be the dominant one in bed in their own ways, with Artoria's growing greed and lust dashing her patience as she took Morgan's authority inside her.

It was a grave mistake.

That hot, throbbing length seemed to be a perfect fit for her, ramming against her womb as a moment of weakness gave Morgan the opportunity to take command. The insidious power, that terrible authority, quickly drove Artoria to greater passions as it fogged her thoughts.

“Aahhh, poor thing. Too eager, and thus, I will now take what is yours. Your first exquisite pleasure as a woman, your very essence as a woman, and all claim to the throne of Camelot~! I will take what is yours, as it is now mine!”

It was far too quick. Artoria could not mount a defense against the power that Morgan wielded, and she was quickly filled with Morgan's seed. That power claimed her from the inside out, staining her soul as she fell to the dark allure of submission to the authority that now commanded her fealty. With a breathy moan, Artoria came, and her connection to Excalibur and Rhongomyniad was cut. Her magical protections, the boons and gifts granted to her over the years, were pulled away. She felt herself weaken, and all authority as king of Britain dissolved as she became another woman of pleasure and submission.

The shift in power would be felt throughout the castle as Morgan felt the power of the throne become hers. The divine weapons, Excalibur and Rhongomyniad, acknowledged her authority, and she felt their power connect to hers. This further increased her own power and authority, making her undisputed as to her claim to ruling Camelot, which was confirmed as her own crown turned from black to gold and glowed with a divine glimmer.

“Hahahahahah~!! Wonderful~ My dear sibling...no, my half-sister, for you are once again a woman! You belong to me, as does your former wife and queen. Now that you have embraced the pleasure of a woman and submission to my power, there is no need for pretense: I am your queen. I am the Queen of Camelot. And I intend on making some changes to cater to my needs.”

She snapped her fingers, and the two mewling thralls, Artoria and Guinevere, were quickly clad in sheer silk trappings and skimpy gold and gem-studded attire inspired by her interactions with those Servants from Persia and Egypt. Lovely veils covered their lower faces as glittery eyeshadow and ruby-painted lips took hold. Guinevere's form was more womanly and enticing, yet Artoria's, as the scars smoothed away, were a lovely show of litheness and grace. Both would be sported as Morgan's personal concubines, always by her side.

It was then that the doors to the former king's and queen's chambers burst open, and in stepped Gawain, Lancelot, Bedivere, Mordred, Gareth, Tristan, and Agravain. Their blades were drawn, and Lancelot took the lead as he stepped forward to confront the sight before them.

“Vile witch! Your repeated attempts at usurpation of the throne will be tolerated no longer! As is the sworn duty of the Knights of the Round Table, we shall cut you down where you stand, Morgan Le Fay!”

“Hold, Sir Lancelot.” Agravain intoned. “Bear witness to the witch's associates.”

The knights all saw the two comely women who framed either side of Morgan, and a gradual horror crept in. It was easier to take notice that Guinevere was one of the two, but they were incredulous when they realized the other was their king.

“No...” Gawain was utterly confounded. “How is it... what did you do with the king?”

Gareth and Bedivere realized the predicament and looked on with a sense of trepidation as the others struggled with what to make of this.

“The king has abandoned her duties and authority in recognition of my own power and authority. By rights, Camelot and Britain are now mine.” she grinned. “As are all those that reside in and serve Camelot.”

“M-mother! Why?” Mordred peeled away her helm to reveal her visage to the other knights for the first time. Anger and outrage spread through the others at this revelation, but Mordred was more concerned with Morgan's play. “You...you said that I was the king's heir, and that I would take the throne! Why would you do this?!”

Morgan gave a slightly venomous look at her 'son', but affectionately cupped Artoria's cheek to draw an affectionate moan.

“I had run out of patience long ago, Mordred. You are a failure, your involvement in my plans was one made in error, and now I shall rectify it. You will serve better as my daughter than my son.”

Unbridled fury crossed Mordred's face, but before the knight could attack, the very room pulsed with Morgan's authority over Camelot.

Reality twisted itself in response to her desire and whims, and Mordred quickly felt her strength leave as her armor fell to pieces. Memories of her involvement in Morgan's plans to replace Artoria with her were swept away, as were her admiration and frustrations with her father. In their place, a prim and proper noble daughter's thoughts slipped in. Lovely, feminine thoughts took hold as her body's tone slimmed and softened while her attire turned into an elaborate dress fitting a princess. Her eyes dulled, and her personality and thoughts solidified as she became devoted to serving as a lovely daughter and future queen that obeyed her mother unconditionally.

“S-sir Mordred!” Gareth was astonished at the sudden transformation, but Morgan did not stop there. Each and every knight who had bared their blades against her would pay with a renewed sense of purpose. They were quickly affected by Morgan's authority, as one by one, the male knights softened and blossomed into comely women sporting the same garb as Artoria and Guinevere, but with less ornamentation to indicate that they were below Morgan's favored concubines.

Tristan’s long red hair grew to the floor and gained an inhuman luster, while Gawain’s appearance made her into a buxom bombshell with a full, fertile body. Agravain turned into a lovely, pale-skinned beauty with voluminous raven hair, and Bedivere required little to her appearance as she became a woman with a nice developed figure and silky white hair. Lancelot’s transformation into the kind of elegant, feminine, doe-eyed beauty that he was notorious for wooing was a particular point of enjoyment for Morgan. As for Gareth, she needed less effort put into her change in appearance and personality, as the female knight joined the others in becoming lovely, feminine harem-garbed servants and dancers.

Their eyes glowed, feeling the image of Morgan's symbol of authority penetrate their minds. This triggered peals of ecstasy among the women, feeling themselves marked effortlessly by their Queen that it brought about instantaneous climaxes in each of them. Mordred watched on, smiling demurely with a dazed expression.

“Arise, my harem slaves.” The command compelled the former knights as they gracefully rose to their feet. Attentive, aroused, obedient. Utterly owned. Morgan took stock of her dedicated entertainment and smiled.

“Rest, and dream of your servitude and submission to me. Feel my authority fill you, pleasure you, and give you purpose. You exist to serve, you exist to obey, and your existence is one of pleasure and peace because you are my possessions. Rest, my slaves, and in the morn, all of Britain will experience a new reign from Camelot. I will be a tyrant, and all shall serve my whims and needs. Yet it will be a kingdom where all are content because I make it so, all lack want because I make it so. Peace will finally, truly reign in Britain.”

“We obey, Queen Morgan. Praise to the new reign of Queen Morgan, the true ruler of Camelot~! All hail the Queen!”

The new, darksome queen smiled. Finally, she had what she wanted, and so much more. As the simulation of events diverged from Proper Human History, Morgan's power allowed the new timeline to preserve itself. Her own history of humanity, separated from the threat of erasure as it played out according to her wishes. All without having to create a singularity, all without having to get a Holy Grail to have her wish manifest.

As she led Artoria and Guinevere to her bedchambers, a smug smile was joined by an equally smug thought.

It was good to be queen~


End file.
